somehow there is always an emily —
she is beautiful, cool, sometimes
goes by em or emma, stone-cold,
blunt like a dick in someone’s, but
as i was saying,
there is always an emily
an em i love, yes.
when she hides behind her friends,
she is the man behind the curtain — i am the ruby shoes
that bring her home, there
the whole time, forever composed of nows,
and she is her worst enemy, her own rival.
she is a very capable shapeshifter,
a sweet, doting farm girl, a femme fatale,
the most convincing actress.
but when she stands alone, waiting
on customers at the sad cash register
denying me, settling for him, waiting.
the em i love is just a fantasy,
the em i loved is just
emily
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